I pressed the accelerator, and the tires slipped slightly on the wet asphalt before catching.

“Who are they, Aaron?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Apex Security Group,” he said. “They are the private firm hired by the defense contractor to handle ‘asset protection’ for the project.”

The rain was coming down harder now, the wipers scraping across the glass with a dry, rhythmic screech.

I looked at the black leather satchel sitting on the floorboard between Aaron’s feet.

Inside that bag were the documents and the encrypted external drive we had just taken from the Whitaker estate.

“They aren’t trying to arrest us,” I said, watching the headlights close the gap.

“No,” Aaron said. “They want the drive back before we can reach a public network.”

The road curved sharply to the left, hugging the edge of a wooded ravine.

I tapped the brakes, feeling the antilock system pulse against the sole of my shoe.

The SUV behind us did not slow down.

It came within twenty feet of our rear bumper, its high beams flooding my rearview mirror with blinding white light.